


Taint My Vision[all mixed up]

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry can see through the colors, but he can't ignore them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taint My Vision[all mixed up]

**Author's Note:**

> So I couldn't pick a title. Sorry.

                AN: Okay, so this is going to be confusing and dreadful, I’m so sorry. I have a thing for diseases that wrap like gifts.

~

                The air is trashed, cigarette smoke and curls of sweat all mixed in with the pitter-patter of rain that smells like home. He’s spaced out though, trying to get away, deluded and secluded. Nothing but a form of wrist bones and laden eyes, he tries to walk; and yet, it’s too loud there’s too much. He stumbles, too many tones, too many voices, too many colors. They pound at his temples, grate on his spine, until...there’s a tanned patch of skin latched onto his and no. No, he can’t deal with this right now, the spirals aren’t gone, the colors aren’t gone, but they never will be.

                He asks if Harry is okay, but no, he isn’t. His colors are still wrong, all patches of yellow and darkened orange. They invade his senses, all ugly and not like him at all. He’s beautiful, from his name to the tips of his eyelashes. His disease doesn’t think so.  His disease thinks Louis is ugly colors that don’t feel right, no matter how much Harry likes him.

                “I think it’s time you head home, we can walk right? You live next to the shore, I’ll come with.”

                Dusty yellow flashes in his eyes, fading into a mist of no. No, I don’t need you to walk me home. No, I need to stay, I need more to drink the colors haven’t faded yet. Instead of any of that, he says nothing at all. So he pulls, and it rains, it rains in water and colors. Brown crunching of leaves, little spots of silver for the real rain, loud music a din of magenta, it rains color. It hurts though, all the colors, he can’t see anything but them. 


End file.
